


Once or Twice

by cdra



Series: Kinktober 2019 [19]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Cuckolding, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome, ascended rarepair form: writing smut with dead side characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2021-01-02 00:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21152870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdra/pseuds/cdra
Summary: Kriemhild's always been head over heels for Siegfried—even after she and Gunther were married, that feeling never quite faded. He gets it—the trust between the three of them goes a bit beyond simple friendship, by now. And as long as it's still the three of them, things aren't so bad.[Kinktober Day 21 - Cuckolding, Threesome/Moresome]





	Once or Twice

**Author's Note:**

> This... _this_. These three. They are dumb and good and really clumsy sometimes. I have little else to say about this one, other than that Gunther was supposed to be the POV character the whole time but Siegfried bullied me and then it just became omniscient I guess.
> 
> ...you _really_ know you were ruined by an event when you're writing smut with the _DEAD SIDE CHARACTERS_.

“Just this once, is that okay, Siegfried?”

Siegfried looks down at Kriemhild, who leans close with her arms wrapped around his neck loosely; her voice is soft, a little uncertain. There’s not much to read about his expression except the slight lift of his brows and the increased speed of his blinking, but her eyes are searching his for an answer, a reaction.

Gunther fidgets at their side, by the door to the room they’ve borrowed, and Siegfried’s eyes tilt toward the motion. He doesn’t get it. There are a lot of things about people, in general, that Siegfried doesn’t get, and attraction, he thinks, is definitely one of those mysterious, confusing things about them.

“And you’re sure about this?” he asks them both, in a way, looking back and forth between the couple’s forms.

Gunther laughs, though there’s a nervousness to it. “I wasn’t sure, at first, but… I trust you, you know?” he explains, the rhythm of his voice a little erratic. “So I mean, as long as you don’t, like… go all the way, I’m fine with it.”

He’s not being completely honest—even Siegfried can tell that, which says plenty—but, it must not be important, if he doesn’t say it outright.

“It was my idea,” Kriemhild admits, drawing his attention back to her, and the gentleness of her touch when her fingers fiddle with his long hair. “And it’s as Gunther said—we trust you, and we both care about you. So, even if it’s just once… I want to have this, with you.”

He’s not completely ignorant to the nuances that he’s missing, here, but—her point is clear enough, and Siegfried isn’t much for making arguments, really. He does better playing by ear, doing things his own way, but he reminds himself to be gentle as his calloused, rough palm cups the side of Kriemhild’s face and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear.

Words are a bother, so Siegfried gives his response by leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. Her breath stutters, surprised—but her eyes flutter shut and she sinks into it, pulling him closer. He’s not remotely experienced with this kind of thing, Kriemhild realizes intuitively, but he could fool anyone with how confident he seems, how he doesn’t question it when she pushes the kiss a little deeper and instead just tilts his head to make it easier for her. That’s how he is: so casually confident, and with the effortless capability to back it up, that she can’t help but be drawn to him.

Gunther bites his lip and forces the tension in his shoulders loose—but he finds himself staring, the knot in his chest incomprehensible, as his wife and his close friend kiss. Siegfried’s arm hugs her waist and his fingers thread lightly into her hair, and Kriemhild squeaks slightly as he closes the gap between their bodies with a tug at her waist. There’s something about seeing her nearly tumble into Siegfried’s broad form, breathing quick and hair a bit askew—Gunther isn’t sure what it is, but Kriemhild is always beautiful, and the change in angle doesn’t really diminish that.

“You okay?” Siegfried asks, his expression telling nothing at all as he catches Kriemhild with ease against his chest. “Maybe we should sit down.”

“That’s… yes, let’s do that,” she says with a sheepish smile, and she casts Gunther a glance as she takes Siegfried by the wrist and leads him over to the bed. Blue eyes nearly the size of saucers greet her, and he follows along a few beats late, as if he’s not really sure where he’s supposed to be.

Following her line of thought, Siegfried takes the initiative; he steps forward and, in one deft motion, seats himself on the edge of the bed and pulls Kriemhild into his lap. Startled, her hands fly up to steady her weight against his chest; his gaze is calm, expectant as if waiting for her to get comfortable. Her heart stutters at the intensity of his gaze, and she draws in a deep breath to gather herself.

“Even after all this time, you still have no idea what you do to people, do you?” she laughs lightly, airy like windchimes. Siegfried blinks back at her, frankly clueless, as her eyes fall shut and her lips meet his again. No, he has no idea, not of why his brusqueness without malice would charm anyone off their feet—not of how close to her heart he’s been for years, either.

Without missing a beat, Siegfried opens his mouth a bit and lets her tongue tease against his teeth; he takes to it harder than Kriemhild does, a low growl echoing in his throat as his grip tightens against her hips and his tongue slips into her mouth. _Gentle_, he reminds himself belatedly—but the sound she makes at his hint of roughness doesn’t much convince him to adhere to that reminder.

The bed creaks a bit as Gunther sits beside them, still unable to take his eyes off of the scene. Worry finds his teeth at his lip; try as he might, he can’t entirely shake the insecurity that ties itself in useless knots in his gut. There’s a lingering fear that he’d lose her—or lose them _both_—that he can’t quite wrestle down as Siegfried’s fingers tangle in his wife’s hair and clench at the small of her back. But, as Kriemhild pulls back to breathe, Siegfried casts him an oddly attentive glance, and just that manages to still some of the wriggling feelings in Gunther’s chest.

“Uh,” he finds himself stammering, almost compelled to speak from the way they both look at him, “S-sorry, don’t mind me… just kind of… taking it all in.”

Siegfried exhales through his nose, and it almost sounds like a laugh; Kriemhild’s face flushes a little. “Just say when you’re ready to join in,” Siegfried says with such casual conviction that both of the couple just stare at him. He frowns a bit and meets Kriemhild’s flustered gaze; “What? Was that not the plan?”

For a man who’s tactically brilliant, Siegfried is not very smart—but at the same time, for a man with no clue of social niceties, he’s oddly perceptive. In the look that Gunther and Kriemhild share, they somehow manage to communicate as much; but also, there’s something in her eyes that makes Gunther think she has something up her sleeve.

She sighs. “It’s not that, you just… oh, don’t worry about it.”

Siegfried frowns at her, and pulls her a little closer into his lap; he catches Gunther laugh quietly, which works as an agreement. “If you say so,” is all he says as he nuzzles into the pit of Kriemhild’s neck and grazes his teeth against her veins; she gasps a bit, which Siegfried determines to be an encouragement. They settle into a lazy rhythm, for a moment, his mouth against Kriemhild’s throat and her hands on his shoulders as she breathes steadily, and Gunther’s posture eases bit by bit as he gets used to the atmosphere, too.

Maybe it’s not so bad, Gunther thinks as he sits a bit more comfortably. Kriemhild seems happy, and she’s smiling at him more often than ignoring him—Siegfried is single-minded as ever, but he doesn’t rush things or push too hard, either. He might be sitting apart from them, but he doesn’t entirely feel like he’s out of place, at least. And there’s something about watching her squirm and gasp when Siegfried absently bites down a little too hard—Siegfried’s voice rumbles wordlessly in his throat as he inadvertently sucks a red flush to the surface of her skin in one spot, then a few more.

“Siegfried?” she catches his attention quietly and reaches to undo the top buttons of her blouse; her other hand slips under the hem of his shirt, indicative. “Let’s get these out of the way, okay?” He grunts and removes his own shirt without pretense, then busies himself with the rest of her buttons—his eyes, golden and sharp, follow her thoughtful expression. It only takes a moment for her blouse to come open, revealing a simple, practical bra; while Siegfried handles that, Kriemhild unbuttons her skirt as well, and lets it sink low on her hips as she rolls off of his hips and sits beside Gunther, who blinks wildly a few times as if he _hasn’t _seen her nude before.

Indeed, both men watch her carefully as she slides her skirt off and settles against the headboard, legs slightly apart. “That’s better,” she hums as she leans forward and sets a hand on Siegfried’s knee. He gets the picture easily and turns to face her, hands on either side of her hips, nearly touching Gunther’s hand as he does. Gunther almost startles from it, but Kriemhild’s hand settles atop his and it’s enough to put him at ease.

Siegfried’s gaze is as expectant as it is intense—but by now, it doesn’t make Kreimhild feel nervous, only sheepish. “How do you want me?” he asks like there’s no heat or laden meaning to those words; his voice, just slightly huskier than normal, says otherwise.

“Here,” she can’t help the shyness of her tone as she hooks a thumb into the line of her panties and raises her hips, just enough to speak for her. “With your mouth… if that’s alright.”

“...Got it.” Siegfried takes to each movement with such seriousness, watches her with a mixture of curiosity and dutifulness as he reaches out and helps ease her underwear down. Even this, he approaches with the graveness of a man studying something foreign and vastly important—it’s endearing, if a bit embarrassing, Kriemhild finds.

He remembers how she responded before and mirrors what made her shudder then: slow kisses and light bites, more like grazes of teeth against skin, now along the insides of her thighs rather than the spots on her neck—those still hold a reddish-purple tone from where his lips had been before. When he glances up, he catches sight of Kriemhild’s hands slipping under Gunther’s shirt as she pulls her husband into a loose kiss; Siegfried hums, content with the normalcy of it.

Experimentally, he draws his tongue along the soft mound between her legs; she sighs lightly, and Siegfried takes it as permission to continue. His hand settles under her rear and he navigates her flesh steadily, taking note of the changing textures and the heady taste of her fluids. There’s a particular point where, when he closes his lips around it, Kriemhild moans into Gunther’s mouth, and a way that if he moves his tongue at the right angle, her hips twitch in his hands as though seeking more.

Gunther pulls his shirt away at Kriemhild’s implicit insistence and wraps an arm around her back to support her; his fingers curl firmly around her breast and he presses his lips to hers again, hurried but with no destination in mind. He reminds himself to be patient and simply drink in the way she breathes and whines against him, because when he settles his fluttering nerves to appreciate it properly, well, he really _does _appreciate it.

“_Gods_, Kriemhild,” he mumbles thoughtlessly as he runs a hand through her hair; “You’re… _so _gorgeous, you know? I mean…” he flusters, tongue-tied; she giggles, and the sweet lines of her smile alongside the heated flush of her cheeks is almost too much for Gunther to wrap his head around.

Kriemhild gasps and clutches at his arm, her breath quickening uneasily; “I’m—I’m close,” she explains as she lifts her hips and pulls Gunther closer. Siegfried gives a curious, low sound and pushes forward, matching to the movements of Kriemhild’s hips and working his tongue more intently along her folds; he rumbles darkly as he wraps his lips around the stiff bud there that makes her stiffen and squeak a sharp “_oh!_”; Gunther finds himself watching her, lightly circling his thumb around her nipple as she squirms against the both of them.

It’s a shallow climax, but it spreads wide instead, buzzing through her limbs and leaving her to gasp harshly as it settles. Siegfried breathes steadily, but audibly, between her legs as he looks up and watches her with the same wonder and gravity as he’s taken everything else with; Gunther holds her, too, with his usual bumbling kind of affection, and Kriemhild can’t help but feel a little over-loved between the two of them.

“Siegfried?” she asks breathlessly as she tucks a strand of hair behind Gunther’s ear, only her eyes tilted toward the long-haired man, “I don’t want to ask too much of you, but… do you think you could take care of him, too?”

“Huh?!” Gunther nearly chokes on nothing at the suggestion and untangles himself from his wife. “I mean, that’s fine—I just…” He searches Siegfried’s face for some kind of understanding but Siegfried just nods like it’s no issue whatsoever, and Gunther thinks he really _shouldn’t _be surprised that Siegfried doesn’t find the idea of pleasuring another man even slightly unpalatable, but alas, he is.

“...This sort of thing isn’t my strong suit,” Siegfried admits with a small frown as he shifts just a bit to the side, to line up better with where Gunther’s sitting. “It’s easier for me to just follow along… is it a problem?”

“No, it’s not,” Gunther says, steadying himself with a low exhale. “I’m just—still trying to wrap my head around all this, too.”

Kriemhild laughs lightly; “He’s never done this with another man, that’s what he’s saying.”

Gunther frowns at her deeply as his cheeks heat up to red—Siegfried nods, as if he understands.

“I see. Well, it’s not as though I’m particularly experienced, but…” Without a hint of nervousness, he undoes Gunther’s trousers and produces his cock, near fully-hard already, and wraps a calloused palm around the base of it. Gunther hisses quietly, caught a bit off-guard by the lack of pretense in the action.

“Well, to no one’s surprise, you’re a quick study,” Kriemhild hums as she entwines her fingers with Gunther’s, reassuring. “Both of you, actually, but you know.” She’s got a glint in her eyes when she smiles at Gunther; he huffs a small chuckle, but his attention is immediately drawn back to Siegfried as he experimentally pumps his wrist a few times, coaxing Gunther to full hardness with ease.

He’s a bit ambitious, immediately taking Gunther’s length into his mouth—Gunther groans and his hips jerk from the suddenness of it. Siegfried’s nails press into his skin and hold him still for a moment; Siegfried’s tongue works a smooth circle around the head of Gunther’s cock, testing the sensation, before he pulls off for a moment to breathe thoughtfully.

“You don’t have to go so hard right away—” Gunther stammers, breathing unevenly. He puts a hand on Siegfried’s shoulder, but Siegfried, oddly impatient, is already pulling his pants off.

“Hm? Then I’ll slow down,” he comments huskily; there’s a curl of a smirk on his lips, and Gunther can’t decide if he hates it or finds it arousing—maybe both, actually. With a hum Siegfried lowers himself between Gunther’s legs once again; a strong hand steadies Gunther’s hips, but this time, Siegfried takes a moment to lick thoughtful stripes along Gunther’s shaft, experimental and ponderous.

Kriemhild shifts a bit, her fingertips drawing a gingerly line along Siegfried’s spine as she sits beside him. He’s surprised at how such a light touch makes his nerves light up—though it only lasts a moment. He takes Gunther into his mouth more slowly, this time, and the other man gives a shuddering sigh; it’s entirely different, taste and texture alike, from Kriemhild, but the heat and saltiness of skin is just similar enough, too. Siegfried purrs a bit as he tests the motions of his tongue along the shaft and the head, though it seems like everything he does makes Gunther’s breath catch all the same.

“I never get to see the faces you make when I do this,” Kriemhild hums quietly, watching Gunther even as her hands snake beneath Siegfried’s form and between his legs. “It’s nice—you’re handsome when you’re all breathless.” Gunther bites his lip, flustered, but she merely eases Siegfried’s clothing out of the way so that she can wrap a delicate hand around his stiff cock—he groans roughly around Gunther, and the chain reaction makes Gunther nearly cry out.

“I’ve imagined this sort of thing a lot,” she admits as she glances down at the space between the three of them. “So I have a lot of ideas about what I’d like to do… I’d love to feel the both of you, but really, I could watch you like this all night, too.” She looks straight at Gunther as she speaks, though she’s touching Siegfried in slow strokes; her words are like a spell that works a lightning-like sort of magic through his spine and straight into his dick. “And Siegfried’s been so good, taking care of us both—I wouldn’t mind spoiling him a bit, don’t you think? Or, I suppose if you wanted to take him, or me—”

Gunther gives a loud, conflicted sound and grabs Siegfried by the hair, pulling him off with a jerk—Siegfried, much to his surprise, groans a bit at the harshness of it, and blinks at him with a confused, hazy stare. For a moment, Gunther catches his breath, and Kriemhild purses her lips in vague concern.

“...You can’t _do _that to me,” he grumbles, a bit petulant and completely breathless. “I almost got off from—actually, you’re _both _too much, did you know that?”

Kriemhild giggles and Siegfried’s lips quirk with an amused grin; Gunther frowns deeply at them.

“Well? What do you want to do?” she asks, unbothered, as she leans over Siegfried and casts him a conspiratorial glance. To Gunther’s vague chagrin, he returns it, though his eyelids flutter, too, when Gunther remembers to loosen his grip on the man’s hair.

“I…” Gunther mumbles, collecting his thoughts as he glances between the two of them. “I don’t think my head’s good for making decisions right now, but…” He sits up partway. “Does it work for you if you’re between me and him? That just… seems easiest.”

She hums a bit and looks down at Siegfried, who gives a sort of half-shrug and rolls over onto his side. “Just point me where you want me,” he says, resting his chin on a hand; Gunther’s eyes unconsciously fall to Siegfried’s cock, standing thick and unabashed between his legs, and he finds himself swallowing absently.

“You boys are hopeless,” Kriemhild sighs and sets her hands on Gunther’s shoulders to push him back down. She mounts his hips readily and leans into give him a quick kiss before turning around astride him to face Siegfried, who rises to his knees in understanding. Kriemhild pats the bed in front of her as she grinds forward, rutting her wetness against the base of Gunther’s cock; Siegfried takes the position offered with a quiet shuffle of sheets.

“At least you listen well, I guess,” she says, resigned, as she lifts her hips and sets her hands against Siegfried’s thighs. Gunther grabs her waist to steady her; his fingers slowly glide down to her rear as she lowers herself slowly onto his length. As she gives a long, shaky exhale her fingers curl around the base of Siegfried’s shaft; she has to arch her back a bit to take him into her mouth, but he holds her shoulders to keep her balanced, so she manages it well enough.

Siegfried’s breaths deteriorate into low, husky panting, and Gunther’s far less quiet by contrast—he holds her tight, and Kriemhild lets herself sink into the slow rhythm that the both of them set. It’s hard to do much more than remain there, full and overcome, as Gunther stabilizes the rocking of her hips and Siegfried throbs against her tongue, but that makes it all the easier to simply forget all the logistical confusions of it and simply enjoy the heat that pulses between them.

Her voice is muffled by Siegfried’s cock, but her quiet moans and whimpers aren’t inaudible in the slightest—Gunther mutters reassurances, just snatches of words, as he fucks her at an easy pace. As it works out, somehow, he has a decent view of Siegfried’s face, and it’s hard not to watch the other man as his eyelids droop and his wavy hair sticks to his forehead from the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Siegfried’s emotions are rare and subtle things, but that’s part of the wonder of seeing him fall apart even in the slightest bit, now—he expects Kriemhild is feeling something similar, though she likely can’t see so much as hear and feel the unsteadiness of Siegfried’s breaths.

Despite his best efforts, he knows he won’t last long, like this—she’s tight and overwhelming around him, and the air is molten-hot and sticking to his lungs. “Kriemhild, I’m gonna—” he warns her tensely, and she slams her hips down against him in answer; his nails dig into her soft skin as he comes first, a wave of sticky, lava-like nonsense crashing over his thoughts as he cries out.

She keeps riding him through it, and Siegfried’s breaths have become almost growl-like as he looks Gunther over distantly. As he shifts and pulls out, she near-desperately puts a hand between her own legs; Gunther gets the picture in her stead and slips two fingers inside of her, which earns a pleased sort of whine from her throat. Siegfried’s grip tightens from how her mouth vibrates around him, but Kriemhild pulls off of him for a moment, gasping as she touches herself and Gunther fingers her.

“Sorry, you’re—you’re kind of a lot,” she gasps absently, casting Siegfried a heated glance; she strokes him as she breathes for a moment, and he determines from the way she’s looking at him like she’s half-drunk that that’s probably a compliment, so he just grunts in lieu of an answer.

Gunther sits up, fitting his chest against Kriemhild’s back as he holds her steady. “While I don’t doubt that—you’re also a bit much, don’t you think?” He curls his fingers hard inside of her, and she moans breathlessly. “You wouldn’t think it, Siegfried, but when she gets going, she can wear me out like you wouldn’t believe.” Kriemhild blushes and takes Siegfried’s length into her mouth again, ignoring the strain in her jaw so she doesn’t have to pay attention to Gunther’s near-drunken chattering. At least he’s gotten his confidence back, but—it’s embarrassing.

“I wonder, though…” Gunther whispers as he buries his head in her neck, “Maybe next time, we’ll see how long you last with him, hm?” The suggestion is enough to burst the pleasurable pressure that had been mounting inside of her—this time, it surges through her body like a river bursting through a worn dam. She stiffens, forgetting to breathe, as Siegfried knots his hand into her hair and comes as well with a low, resounding growl that seems to reverberate through her bones; Kriemhild all but goes limp as her climax fades, but Gunther and Siegfried both catch her in unison.

“Sorry,” Siegfried pants softly, “I didn’t mean to do that.” Gunther shakes his head and Kriemhild laughs it off softly; the three of them settle into a heap atop the bed, with Gunther curled around her back and her head resting against Siegfried’s chest.

“Now who’s getting carried away, saying things—” she mutters with an unoffended frown as she casts Gunther a glare and waves her hand indicatively. “You better mean it, or I’m going to be mad.”

It’s Siegfried’s turn to give a quiet laugh, and Gunther flashes her a broad, comfortable smile that says all it needs to.

**Author's Note:**

> technically this was actually the prompt for day 22 but I finished it before day 21 so I published it first, sue me. day 21's actual prompt is coming... Soon


End file.
